There's Always Room for Healing
by Phantom Rush
Summary: Every night, Francis waits. Every night, Arthur comes home dead drunk. Every night, Arthur takes his anger out on Francis, and every night, Francis lives in fear. Will their relationship go for the better or for the worst? My first FrUK story! Rated M just to be safe.


**There's Always Room for Healing**

**Rochu: Hi guys! This is just a FrUK one shot based on an RP I am doing with xXNoraMarieXx (which started on Omegle before moving onto email). It will be a one-shot since I already have a couple stories on the line. **

**I don't own Hetalia…**

* * *

Francis washed the dishes, anxiously waiting for his love and husband, Arthur to return home. He went out nearly every night and every time he came home, he would be irritated or even violent against the Frenchman in particular. But, of course, Arthur would apologize for his wrongdoing, and like the forgiving person he is, he always accepted the apology. He finished the dishes and started on dinner, barely finishing with setting up the table before he heard the door open.

Careful to keep himself looking calm and natural instead of nervous and panicked, Francis gave a rather weak smile; almost like a grimace as Arthur walked in, no doubt drunk.

"Bonjour, mon chere," he greeted quietly. "Supper is ready for you." He added as he pulled the chair and let his lover sit on it and pushing it towards the table. Arthur grumbled something about being old enough to do it himself, but Francis ignored it.

"What's for dinner? It better not be that crap you always make…" Arthur sneered with a drunken face. Francis gulped before putting the food on a plate and presenting it to the Englishman. After a few bites, he spat out all of the food onto the plate before turning his emerald eyes in Francis' direction.

"What the bloody hell is this? Are you trying to poison me?" Arthur growled in anger before throwing the plate to the ground, shattering it in pieces. The blonde tensed.

"Sorry, is there anything you'd rather have?" Francis murmured. He got the broom out of the cleaning closet and began to sweep the plate shards and the food that Arthur spat out earlier. He took the plate shards and dumped them in the garbage. He didn't mean to upset Arthur; in fact, he tried his very hardest to keep from getting on his bad side and pissing him off even further.

"Yes, something that you haven't made," Arthur replied sarcastically. "I don't even know why I'm with someone like you; when I can always go for that American I work with." He grumbled to himself but made sure that it was loud enough for Francis to hear. The Frenchman flinched at the words, letting his frustrations get the best of him. "Then why don't you make something if you don't like me cooking rather than complaining about it?" He slapped his hand on his mouth as he heard Arthur's chair screech and his footsteps walking slowly behind him.

"I-I'm sorry, Arthur, I didn't mean any of that!" Francis cried in fear. Arthur, still in his drunken state slapped Francis in the face. "How dare you talk to me that way? I am the master of the house! You should treat me with respect!" Arthur's fist soon collided with Francis' face and he kicked and punched the poor Frenchman, making him feel like he was about to die. After about a minute or two, Arthur stopped and retreated to his room. "That damn kitchen better be clean before I come back downstairs!" Arthur hollered before slamming his office door.

Francis, still in pain and in tears went to the medicine cabinet and mended all of his wounds before falling inside the black in the kitchen.

When he awoke, he checked the clock to see that it was only five in the morning. Slowly rising from the ground, he cringed in pain and memories of the violence that had occurred the night before began to flood in. Tears were blurring his vision as he cleaned up the mess that was made. About an hour later, Francis finished up and made his way to his bedroom, making sure Arthur was still asleep before making his way to the guest room, crawling into the deep blue duvet covers and slept.

* * *

When he awoke again in the afternoon, his bruises still hurt, but he kept moving as he saw that Arthur was on his way home from work. "Hopefully he isn't drunk again." Francis hoped as he went to prepare supper once more. It was the same usual routine, but this time, Arthur didn't look as drunk or as pissed as he did the night before.

"How are you feeling?" The Englishman asked as he sat himself down at the dinner table.

"I'm fine, how was your day? Anything good happen?" Francis asked, hoping not to step on the land mine that is his lover's bad mood. Arthur heaved a rather heavy sigh.

"It's the same thing…what have you prepared?" Arthur asked.

"You're favourite, mon amour: fish and chips." Francis replied as he set the plate in front of Arthur. He ate the food with a satisfied grin. "It's delicious, love," Arthur replied happily. Francis knew what would come next; Arthur would apologize for his behaviour and being the naïve Frenchman he is, he would cave in and accept.

"I apologize for my behaviour yesterday. I just had another tough day at work…" Francis sighed. He loved the man too much to let him go. "I forgive you," Francis replied placing a hesitant kiss on Arthur's forehead. "I'll be in my office if you need me," Arthur put his plate in the sink and made his way up the stairs. Once Arthur was out of earshot, Francis breathed a sigh of relief. "At least he isn't aggressive today." he murmured to himself happily as he began to wash the dishes and putting them away. But something bothered him completely:

"Besides the consumption of alcohol and work, why is he so abusive?" Francis pondered on that question for a while before shrugging it off and heading off to bed.

* * *

"Yo Artie!" Arthur cringed at the sound of his voice as his assistant and young co-worker, Alfred F. Jones came into the office room. "Can I help you, Alfred?" This is one of the reasons he HATED his job; it was all because of Alfred, the idiotic, loud, obnoxious burger and milkshake guzzling American.

"Yeah, I just needed to know where you can get those pastries you told me to get. I couldn't find them at any McDonald's in the city." A tick mark was placed nicely on Arthur blonde head.

"That's because they don't sell scones at a junk food place, Mr. Jones…" Arthur replied calmly; even if all he wanted to do was choke him for his attitude and behaviour. But he had to keep his cool so he could keep his job.

"Are you sure? I remember they sell muffins and pies in the morning but only up until eleven…maybe I should just go and check again…oh, and how many times have I told you to call me Alfred?" Something inside of him made him snap.

"Could you PLEASE stop talking about your precious junk food restaurant and just get my damn scones and tea, and I will call you no such thing!" Arthur yelled. Everyone in the office turned to look at him and he had to keep his calm.

"Dude, are you alright?" Arthur sighed and gave him an apologetic smile.

"You know what? It's fine…" Arthur waved him off and got back to work. He couldn't believe he lost his cool yet again.

"Are you alright, sir?" A quiet voice asked with a tone of worry and sincerity.

"I told you to just leave me be…" Arthur growled as he turned to the Alfred look-a-like.

"Oh no, I'm not Alfred! It's just that Mr. Zwingli requested to see you," The boy replied shyly before scurrying back to where he worked. Arthur gulped and went into his boss' office.

* * *

Francis was growing worried. Not only for the safety of Arthur, but for the fact that he was late again that night. "Did something bad happen at work?" he asked himself as he finished making dinner. He heard the door open and slam shut, which made the Frenchman jumped when his lover walked into the room.

"Arthur, is everything okay, mon petit lapin?" Arthur turned and glared at Francis. "No, everything is NOT okay! Thanks to losing my temper at my assistant once again, I've been fired!" Arthur slurred angrily. "This is your entire fault!" He shouted angrily has he brought his hand to Francis face, soon leaving a red mark.

Francis fell to the ground in pain and he soon waited for the next blow to come at him before he looked up at Arthur, and soon saw remorse and guilt in his emerald green eyes. Soon enough Arthur ran up to his office and slammed the door, leaving a confused Frenchman sitting on the kitchen floor that then curled up into a ball and cried his eyes out. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Arthur paced his office. He had been aware of the fact that he hurts Francis, but he didn't know what made him so…abusive; next to the alcohol, of course. "Why the bloody hell am I doing this? I love him and I want to be with him; but yet, I still hurt him. What is wrong with me?" Arthur stopped pacing and sighed. "Maybe, just maybe," he mumbled to himself.

Meanwhile, Francis finished up with the dishes and wiped away his tears. He decided that it would be best to just check on him and to apologize; like the loving and forgiving Frenchman he was. He walked slowly and cautiously up the stairs. He nervously knocked on Arthur's office door, waiting and hoping that he wouldn't get beat up again.

Arthur opened the door. "Yes Francis?" Francis gulped before he began. "Arthur, I'm sorry. You know I love you," Francis whispered. "Please don't hurt me," he said to himself.

"I know you do, love…" Arthur began. "Which is why to prevent me from hurting you again, I am leaving you," he finished. Francis' blue eyes widened. "Non, non mon chere, you can't! I promise I'll do better!" The man begged and pleaded.

"No, it's not you, love. I've been the one who has been treating you horribly. I get drunk every night and I beat you senseless! This should be good for the both of us. I don't want to hurt you anymore…" Tears began to stream down the Brit's face before he full out lost it and sobbed on Francis' shoulder. "I am sorry, I am so sorry for hurting you," he sobbed. Francis stood there motionless before he wrapped his arms around Arthur and comforted him.

"Shh, it's okay," Francis was on the verge of crying as well, but being rather cautious, he decided to leave Arthur be for a while and sleep in the guest room. Arthur agreed, as he believed he was going to hurt him again.

During the night however, Arthur began to toss and turn. "No, I'm sorry, Father…" he mumbled in his sleep.

_Arthur opened his eyes and found himself tied to the wall, where his father and three brothers stood. His father held a whip in his hands and Arthur's emerald eyes widened. "This is a lesson for you, my son. You will be married to that girl whether you like it or not." His father growled before he struck Arthur in the stomach. Blood began to seep out of his slash and Arthur saw a smirk coming from his older brother's mouth. _

"_Hit him harder, Father. I don't think he's listening," Arthur growled in his direction before another he was struck once again. He never wanted to reveal that he was gay, but after the family found out, they were angry, to say the least, and had Arthur betrothed to a young girl by the name of Alice, but that didn't stop Arthur from going out with another boy._

_Actually, the abuse never started there. After long hours of labour, his mother gave birth to Arthur, but died of child birth soon after. Distraught and angry, Arthur's father would take his anger out on his son; blaming him for the death of his one true love and saying that he would never find happiness as long as he lived. His brothers were verbally abusive, and would find the chance to make fun of Arthur and to put him down. _

"_I'm sorry," he mumbled before he fell into the black._

* * *

Francis was still wide awake before he could hear a scream coming from the master bedroom. Curiosity got the best of him as he went to investigate. "Arthur, what is the matter," he opened the door to the master bedroom to find Arthur sitting up and crying his eyes out. Francis slowly crept up next to Arthur and wrapped his arms around his lover. "Everything will be alright," he said. Once Arthur stopped crying, Francis knew that he had to ask. "Arthur, what happened? I heard screaming coming from the guest bedroom…" Arthur sighed. Now he understood why he was so hurtful to Francis. He began to explain his abusive past to Francis who nodded and followed the story.

"After that night, I ran away from home. I lived on the streets for about six months before I met Yao and Ivan, a gay couple living in the area who knew what I was dealing with and decided to take me in. I lived with them right up until I graduated high school and I lived on my own for a while. I talk to both Ivan and Yao every once in a while and I haven't heard from my family…and I don't want to," Arthur explained before he curled up into a ball. Now Francis understood; he was abused and tormented in the past.

"You are better than them, mon amour." Francis tried to soothe the Brit. "Do not let their mistakes influence your life to the point where you end up like them." Arthur felt much better for letting out all he has been going through. Even if he did live with Yao and Ivan, he didn't tell them much about his past and they never asked; although they were on occasion rather worried about Arthur. Before he met Francis, he was rather depressed but happy, which Yao has noticed. Arthur knew he didn't want to hurt Francis again. "Get some sleep," Arthur murmured softly. Francis, not about to leave Arthur alone after what he told him, crawled across the bed to lie down next to the Englishman. "You too," he replied. Arthur nodded as he placed a kiss on Francis' forehead and embraced the comfort that he was given. The Frenchman gave a small smile and curled up next to the Englishman. The two slept peacefully that night before Arthur had to do his usual morning routine and head to work; of course, he remembered that he was fired, so he decided to stay in bed with Francis just a little longer, hoping to gain his trust once more.

It's been about a week since the last incident between Francis and Arthur. Arthur has still been on the prowl for a job and he came up with nothing at the moment. "I wish I haven't yelled at that idiot American so I can still keep my job," he murmured. He was showing signs of improvement, but Arthur thought it wasn't good enough. So, he decided to call someone and talk to them about it. He grabbed the house phone and made a quick call.

"Yao, it's me. I need to book an appointment…"

* * *

"Francis, I need you to come with me tomorrow," Arthur requested during lunch. Francis got a little worried. "What for, mon chere?"

"Well, remember Yao? Well, he's a councillor and psychologist and I booked an appointment with him. You see, I feel like I'm not doing my best to be a better husband to you and I thought it would be best for both me and you," Francis pondered on that idea for a moment before nodding. "Yes, of course," Francis replied.

* * *

The next day, the two made their way to Yao's office downtown. "It's good to see you again, aru!" Yao hugged Arthur tightly. "You too, Yao; how's Ivan?" "He's doing fine! He has been very helpful since we adopted little Anya, aru" Yao replied. The two caught up for a while before Arthur introduced Francis. "Ah yes, Arthur has talked a lot about you, aru. I actually need to talk to you first." Francis blinked before he nodded. "Okay then," Francis followed Yao to his office. "Please take a seat," Yao gestured and Francis did as he was told. "Now, I'm just going to ask you basic information; along with your relationship with Arthur and we will be done," Francis nodded as the questions kept coming in. He was honest about each and every one of the questions and Yao took note of each and every one of them.

"Now, let's talk about Arthur. How long have you known him, aru?"

"I've known him since we met in college. At first, he refused to go out with me because of my nationality and how I flirted with pretty much everyone on campus, but what surprised me was that he asked me out our third year of college. We've been together ever since."

"When did you two get married, aru?"

"We got married about a year ago, I believe. It was a small ceremony in France. All our closest family and friends were there. I think you and Ivan were invited but couldn't make it," Yao nodded. "Yes, Ivan and I were picking up our daughter at the adoption center in Russia, aru." The man explained. "Now, Arthur talked to me the other day, aru; said that he has been a rather horrible husband to you. Is this true, aru?" Francis gulped. He didn't know if he could confess that Arthur often took his anger out on the Frenchman, but Yao was there to help him, so he explained everything; from when things started to go wrong up until Arthur realized his wrong doing and stopped. Yao jotted down all of the events onto the paper as Francis wiped the tears from his eyes.

"One more question, if that's alright, Mr. Bonnefoy, aru" Francis nodded as he blew his nose onto the Kleenex that he was offered. "Have you ever considered leaving Arthur for all he has done to you, aru?" Francis paused. He knew that he was going to be asked this question.

"I have been on a few occasions…but I love him way too much to let him go. My heart chose him; kind of how you stayed with your husband for all of these years," Yao nodded in understanding.

"Thank you, Francis. Could you send your husband in now?" Yao requested. Francis sniffled and nodded before he stood up and left the office. Somehow, explaining all the events that have happened made a heavy weight lift off of Francis shoulders. He walked back to the waiting room where Arthur waited patiently.

* * *

"Yao is ready to see you now, Arthur," The Brit nodded before he entered the office. "Arthur, please have a seat," The Brit nodded as he sat where Francis sat beforehand. "Now, I'm going to ask some questions, and I would just like you to be honest with them, alright, aru?" Arthur nodded as the questions started flowing in.

"Now, I would like to discuss your past. When you were living with us, Arthur, you kept everything to yourself, aru. It is my job to help you out, aru. Now, please explain everything from when it began. So that's what Arthur did; he explained how his mother died at a young age and how abusive his father and his brothers were to him. Again, Yao took them all down in his notes.

"Everything that happened…made me who I am today; an angry, abusive man; nothing like how a British gentleman should be like," Arthur concluded, tears streaming down his face.

"Nobody is perfect, Arthur. We all have our flaws. Just because your family blames you for the death of your mother doesn't mean that you should believe them and become like them. I have an option for you, aru. You can come and visit me regularly and seek anger management, aru, if you would like." Yao handed Arthur a pamphlet with information on anger management. Arthur blinked. This is what Arthur needed. He did want to change his ways and become a better husband to Francis.

"I will give you time to think about it. You know my number and my office times, aru. Thank you for your time, aru." Arthur nodded. He was about to walk out of the office before he stopped. "One more thing, Yao," Yao furrowed his eyebrows. "Yes, aru," Arthur turned and gave Yao the biggest bear hug he could ever give. The Chinese man froze for a brief moment before he returned the hug. "Thank you…for being there for me," he whispered. "Anytime, aru," Arthur released him from the hug and went out of the office.

"How did it go?" Francis asked. "Well, he suggested that I go see him regularly and to seek anger management." Arthur replied as the two walked out of the building. Francis latched onto Arthur's hand and the Brit froze. He looked at Francis before placing a kiss on the Frenchman's forehead. "I promise, I won't hurt you anymore," Francis smiled.

"I know you won't…"

* * *

**Rochu: And that is the end of the oneshot! Thank you for reading. Now, off to finish Chapter five of HetaCapella. Until next time! **


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